It's that time of the year again. It's been years, but it still feels the same. How's is this possible? People kept telling me that time would be my best friend. That time would pass and things would be in its right place again. That time would heal my wounds and cease my pain. That everything would get better.
But that wasn't quite true. I'm not saying those people lied. They just didn't know, and could barely understand. Yes, days kept passing - one by one. The sun rose and fell, every single day. I travelled. I read many books. I met incredible people. And yes, you could say I was moving... But I wasn't exactly moving on. I was never in the same place, but still I had nowhere to go. I was pointless.
Time revealed itself as an enemy. It kept falling between my fingers, and I couldn't hold it. I couldn't even feel it. I'd become this mere observer, like an absent narrator telling a story that he's not even into. And the pain kept filling all of the black spaces - the only thing you left behind - inside my body. I've become nothing but sorrow, ache and disappointment.
Everything falls apart again on this time of the year. In early February, when the air is frigid and the sun is imperceptible. The skies become this pale light blue cloak, and time feels inert. The wind blows like troubled whisperers and my heart screams for you in silent. But still... You're anywhere to be found.
Where are you? And why did you leave like a whisper through the wind? Where did you go? And why didn't you take me with you?
What's the cure to all this love I keep feeling for you? Is there even a way out?
I just want February to end...